Remedy
by OhThatGirl
Summary: Earth is dying. The Cullens are invited to a secret colony on Mars. Determined to live, Bella Swan sneaks onto the last ship. There she meets Edward. "You won't tell, will you?" She pleads, eyes wide with panic. She is risking everything, everyone. "No."
1. Before

My Beta, **Permanent Rose,** is fantastic. Period.

* * *

_Waking up at the start of the end of the world,  
But it's feeling just like every other morning before,  
Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone__..._

_Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?_

- Matchbox Twenty, How Far We've Come

* * *

**Before. **

Charlie looks up at the man standing before him. Charlie's face is a mask of utter disbelief, too stunned for a moment to form words. His jaw drops open, teeth beating uselessly against each other, his tongue too tied to form words.

"How long?" he finally sputters, staring up into the eyes of his old friend. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, and Charlie is sure that if they weren't part of the uniform, his friend wouldn't wear them. The pollutants in the air had long since blocked out most of the sun's rays.

The two of them had been drinking buddies in college, the bond growing stronger over the years until they had formed a tight pact, a strong bond of equality. They had been best friends ever since, even when Jimmy moved up into the world of high government secrets, and Charlie stayed behind in the tiny town of Forks to start a family.

"You know this has been coming," his friend says gruffly. He leans down, over Charlie's midmorning cup of coffee, and whispers the words he knows Charlie least wants to hear. "The world is _dying_, my friend, and we're going to die along with it."

The shock of it all still affects Charlie. He feels like his ears are blocked, and that maybe by some mistake, he is mishearing. Sensing this, Jim pulls him to his feet and discreetly steps out the back door. Charlie does all he can to stay upright as he tumbles through the steel metal door.

"We're old," Jim friend says again, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. Charlie would normally put on a face mask to step outside, but since he knows his friend wouldn't lie to him, he doesn't see much point.

Jim leans against the red metal railing, and his eyes dart around at the scenery. There's not much to show for it - a plank of wood rising straight from the ground, small splinters splaying in opposite directions in some crazy dance. Charlie thinks for a moment. The word used to be "tree"; he's almost sure of it. There are a few of them around, but they have all been dead for a long time. His friend's gravelly voice brings him back to the present, wise with age and wisdom. "The world's old too, and tired, it seems. Can't really blame it though, can you?"

_Yes. I can,_ Charlie thinks blankly. _I can when my daughter's life is at stake. _

"Yes," Charlie says aloud. His lips feel dry forming the words, and his lungs feel heavy. Maybe it's his heart; he can't be sure. His mind flashes back to the years before, when his beautiful baby was just a child. Taking her to movies, playing board games, the time he took her to The Park. The Park he remembers well. It was the only time in his life he'd seen trees and flowers, and his lovely daughter dancing around, her eyes bright and wide, had been more beautiful than all of the color that the indoor plaza possessed.

A single tear rolls down his cheek, and Jim politely pretends not to notice. The skies are darker than normal today, but Charlie can't be sure if it's meant to rain, or if the world is really going to end like his friend predicts.

"We're to blame," Jim says pointedly. Charlie shakes his head, but Jim seems to be speaking more for his own benefit. "We did this to ourselves."

"I didn't do this. I didn't do _anything_!" Charlie roars suddenly, the thought of his precious daughter filling every part of his being. He can feel her smiling, laughing, crying. He's seen her cry before, and he isn't going to let the last time she cries be in her dying breaths. His eyes dare to glance toward his friend's face, his own features contorted into a pleading cry. "There has to be something I can do for her!"

Charlie sinks to the ground then, the first time in a long time that he's felt the earth beneath him. "My baby." His words are like a low moan, pleading, begging. Bella, his only daughter, simply cannot die. "My _baby_."

His friend speaks up then, offering him a small piece of hope. "That's why I'm here, Charlie."

The moan is cut short, and Charlie's head snaps up to gaze curiously at his friend. There can't be an answer to his pain, even though he wants one so desperately.

"What?" Charlie whispers. "What can I do?"

Jim looks away as Charlie collects himself, pulling himself up to his feet to gaze at his friend. Jim's tone is professional as he explains the situation.

"There is life on Mars," Jim says carefully. Before Charlie can let out a laugh, Jim gives him a silencing glance. Charlie sobers up immediately; he can't let his daughter, his baby, die.

"There is life on Mars," Jim repeats again. He speaks slowly, as if he is talking to a child. Charlie hangs on every word. "Our life."

The sentence puzzles Charlie, and he waits quietly for Jim to continue.

"They've been working on it for a while, and it's part of my program. A top secret, if you will. Few are invited into it, and only the young, fit, and healthy are invited to go. That is, unless you're a doctor, an engineer, or," he pauses, "a cop."

Charlie breaks into an ecstatic smile. "Does that mean that Bella and I can go? That we'll be safe?"

Jim grimaces and looks away. A shimmer of light shines through the clouds – an echo of what used to be the sun. After a moment of drawn out silence, he shakes his head. "No, Charlie. Neither of you were chosen."

Anger surges through him, racing through his veins. His friend had given him momentary hope after telling him that the world would end, only to sting him with his biting words. He can't fight the anger in his tone as he spits venom at his old friend.

"Was that your idea of a _joke_?"

Surprisingly, Jim shakes his head. His face is level with Charlie now, and he lifts his chin up in defiance.

"You are going to die, Charlie," he says patiently. "You and I will both die very soon. The question is, do you want to save your daughter?"

The answer is simpler than breathing. Charlie nods fervently.

Jim smiles, a sad smile, and glances to the ghost of the sun. "I thought so. Come with me, and we'll find a way to get her on this damn ship, even if it takes all night."

Charlie scratches his head. He is full of questions, but he holds some back as they make their way toward Charlie's old truck. "When does it leave?"

Jim pauses midstride; the question takes him by surprise for a moment. When he finally answers, it is brief and blunt.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

**Author Note: **Just a start. Let me know - is it worth continuing? There's not much, and more will be revealed later, but review if you like it!


	2. Naive

_Waking up at the start of the end of the world,_

__

But it's feeling just like every other morning before,

Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone...

_Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?_

- Matchbox Twenty, How Far We've Come

**

* * *

**

**Before.**

Bella groans quietly in her night chamber, sleep still present in the corners of her eyes. She lifts up her sleep mask and takes a short breath, testing the quality of the air. It's a bad habit, she knows, but she can never convince herself to stop. The green light in the corner of her room alerts her that the air isn't poisonous, and despite herself she breathes a sigh of relief.

The last time a leak infiltrated her house, her mother died.

She shudders quickly and slips off her evening wear, replacing it with her traditional blue jumpsuit. Everybody in the world wore them. They were soft and puffy, made of strongly woven fibers to keep out the harmful air. The attire was not a choice. In grade school, a classmate of hers found an old piece of cloth, hardly existent in reality. She tries hard not to think of that day.

"_What is that?" Bella gasped quietly. Angela stood in the middle of the class, a circular object placed around her head. It reminded Bella of what she had seen in pictures, but the word escaped her._

"_It's a crown," Angela giggled, spinning in a circle gleefully. Bella's mouth dropped open, and soon a few children were touching it, feeling it. Angela beamed proudly. "I found it in a box labeled 'Westrided.'" _

"_Restricted," one of their classmates corrected her. "It means that it is _strictly_ forbidden."_

_The children ignored him and continued to mumble amongst themselves. Bella reached up shyly and touched the material. It felt rough, with a simple brass button at the top. _

"_That is the jewel!" Angela giggled. Everybody 'Oh-ed' and 'Ah-ed' over it for a few minutes as the computer instructor tried to quiet the children. _

"_Please children take your seats. Please children take your seats. Please children take your seats..." _

"_Wait!" chirped Jessica over the noise. "That isn't a crown!" _

_The class turned to her, curiosity burning in their round eyes, tiny grubby fingers clinging to the piece of fabric. They spoke at the same time, drowning out the sound of the computer. "Oh! What is it?" _

_Everybody knew Jessica. Her mother's mother's mother had helped design the everyday suits. Her own mother had redesigned them after The Plague. She knew everything there was to know about the old days and clothes._

"_That, my friends," she said seriously, pausing for dramatic effect, "is a _mini-skirt_." _

Things had downward spiraled from there. A fight to see who could wear it ensued. Jessica won.

Jessica lost.

Children are naive. Bella knows this now. She was too young to know it then, though. When she needed it most. But now it was too late.

After the accident, Angela was sent away for five years. When she came back, she was almost one of the robots. She spluttered out rules about clothing. Her eyes were empty. She never again mentioned the accident, nor did anybody else. Except the computers.

_If Jessica had been wearing her suit, she would still be with us today. She would have avoided Elimination. That is why it is important for citizens to each respect The Rules. Now we will take a short moment of silence. Thank you and have a good day. _

The eerie reminder chimed on the minute of her ruin once a year. As the computer explained to the teary eyes of that kindergarten class weeks later, there simply wasn't enough room in the world to deal with the surplus of handicapped humans. Her burns from the air were too much. She couldn't walk, her legs were ruined. It was better to be put out of misery than to be a nuisance to society. The children did not understand, but they pretended too.

Jessica's mom was never heard of again.

* * *

"Dad?" Bella whispers from the top of the stairs. The floorboards creak under her feet as she walks into the kitchen. It's very unlike him to not be there, but his cup of coffee tells her he hasn't gone far.

Bella opens the fridge and grabs a food bar. She has a single faint memory of her life as a young child, the only time her mother brought her a fresh piece of food. They had savored it over the course of the week.

That week her mother was truly happy. She stared at the fruit and dreamt up wild stories about what life might have been like long ago. Bella's bedtime stories were filled with fairytales that week. The thing was round and green, with a red center and juice that squirted up onto Bella's puffy cheeks as she giggled.

They found something black in the center, hard and disgusting to chew. After pulling one out, Bella lifted it up to her father's face. His eyes twinkled and he ruffled her hair playfully.

"Bella, those are seeds. You plant them and things grow," he said softly. Bella's sticky palm clasped around the seeds tightly, her heart beating quickly.

"Like a_ farm_…" she gasped quietly. "Can we plant them? Please Daddy? And we can have a real farm! Oh! With a chicken! Can we get a chicken? And we can plant them and … and we can… keep them. And we can eat watermelon every day. For breakfast and lunch and dinner. All the time. We just need to plant it first…"

She tugged on her father's fingers, yanking him toward the back door.

"Silly Bella, there is no dirt. It's forbidden, you know that," he said softly. Bella was too young to recognize the pain in his eyes as he said this. Instead, the word forbidden struck Bella with her old memory.

Jessica's skirt had been forbidden.

Bella screamed. Dropped the seeds like acid. Sobbed into her father's shoulder.

Charlie never used the word again.

The fruit had cost them half a month's wages.

When it was gone, her mother cried.

And that was the end of that.

* * *

"How are you today Isabella?" The computer asks her mechanically. Bella rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at the device. Its reprimanding tone scolds her at once. "Isabella, that is no way to treat Mother."

_You're not a person_, she thinks bitterly. _You're a piece of machine. And certainly not worthy to be called Mother_.

After her mother died, her father brought in Mother. They weren't rich by any means, but his father was a simple man, and required something there to talk to, a substitute for her mother. The new advanced robot was perfect for him. Every morning he talked to it about his day.

In a way, it is good for him. It even has her voice. Once, it even tried to tell Bella a bedtime story. It lacked creativity, because its programmers lacked heart.

Bella hates the piece of garbage with all of her heart.

"Don't forget to check your mask, honey," Mother chides. "I say this as Mother, for your own safety."

"Damn thing sounds stupid, talking in third person," Bella mumbles to herself bitterly as she rips off the last bite of chewy substance with her teeth. She chews quietly and ignores Mother scolding her for bad language.

After she finishes her breakfast, Bella places the recyclables in the bin. She slips on her facemask and steps out into the orange light of the day. The sky is a maroon shade, covered with thick grey-green clouds. Sometimes she wonders what the world looked like back when, when people rode horses and sat in fields of flowers and trees under a bright yellow sun.

Bella remembers the trees from when her father took her to The Park. They were tall and thick, with rainbow leaves that crunched when you stepped on them. She hasn't seen one since that trip when she was very, very little.

Bella is sixteen now.

She wipes a hand over her mask, clearing up a corner for her vision. She reminds herself to swing by the store after studies and check over prices for a new mask. Her warranty is up, and if Mother lectures her one more time about safety, Bella might break the machine that is so dear to her father.

Suddenly it _is_ her father standing in front of her. He locks eyes with her and glances around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, covered in the protective wrap, with a gloved hand. He grins at her weakly, the corners of his mouth shaking in an attempt at a smile.

"Good morning Bella, didn't expect to see you here so early, now did we?" he laughs nervously. It is then that Bella notices her father's old friend standing next to him, hands clasped tightly and eyes hidden by his signature sunglasses. Something seems different about her father, strange, but Bella ignores his peculiarity and smiles at the man next to him.

"So good to see you," she says, holding out a hand. Jim reaches forward and grips his hand in hers, giving it one, two, three solid shakes. Suddenly her eyes connect the strangeness, and she gasps.

"Dad! Your facemask!" Bella's voice shatters. There is nobody else on the street except for the three of them – you're not usually supposed to walk. If your facemask broke in a bad air quality field, you would die within days of pollution. Nobody is there though to hear her outburst. Still, Charlie shushes her quickly. "Put it on! Are you mad?"

"Bella," her father says gruffly, holding her down. "We're not mad. But we need to talk."

"What about?" Bella says, tears burning in her eyes. She turns and grabs his hand, dragging him toward their house. "You need your facemask… it's important. You know this. You know this! Why would you take it _off_? It just doesn't make sense! Doesn't make any sense at all…"

"You go first," Charlie says roughly as he pushes Bella into the cleansing room. An okay beep and a burst of sanitization air later, Bella is let inside her house. Charlie looks at her, his eyes dark, and shakes his head. "Close the door, Bella."

She does as he says and listens. She assumes it's her father stepping in the chamber. Moments later, an alarm sounds, a series of short staccato beeps.

"Please remove all clothing," the voice commands. A sigh comes from the other side of the door as the thick fibers are discarded from her father's body.

"You have been contaminated. Please throw old clothing into the burn basket immediately. Please apply the facemask and stand still for thirty seconds while we process Damage."

_Why would Charlie do this?_ Bella wonders to herself as the soft beeps travel through the thick metal door. Her father was always getting into trouble whenever Jim came around, but he had never taken off his facemask before. Especially_ outside_.

"Damage sustained: minimal. Total lifetime damage: thirty-seven-percent. Please wait while we cleanse you. After, please apply the new clothing as supplied in the bin. We have been alerted of your Cleanse and it has been documented. Thank you for your participation."

A few minutes later her father walks through the door, looking no less worried then before. The Cleanse doesn't seem to affect him like it normally does. Once, when her father had his facemask pulled off by mistake, he ran straight for the Cleanse room. He spent the next week indoors.

Nearly five minutes later, Jim walks through. Both seem unaffected by the Cleanse.

"Tell me, Bella," his friend says. "Have you watched the news lately?"

Bella nods her head, but Jim is already shaking his hands in the air.

"No Bella," he says quietly. "Not that news." Charlie pushes him and places a finger against his own lips. He glances at Mother in the corner, her green light flashing. Suddenly his friend's eyes widen, and he nods.

"Mother," Jim says sweetly, "We no longer need your services. Please shut down."

"As you wish," the machine says, mocking her mother's vocalization and tone. They sound exactly the same, except Mother sounds empty and hollow. Renee's voice was warm, liquid-like, full of laughter that sounded like warm butterscotch. Bella scowls at the machine. But before she can curse it, Charlie's friend backs up, swings around and kicks the machine square in the center.

A short burst of sound, a fritz of electric current, and the machine is ruined. Bella's mind is too slow to comprehend what is happening. Charlie and his friend, attacking the monitors in the room, knocking them to the ground and smashing them to bits before her very eyes.

When they are done, Jim turns to her and winks devilishly.

"Big brother is watching," he whispers conspiratorially. His chest rises and falls heavily with every ragged breath he takes. "They hear everything, they see everything, they_ know_ everything."

The man seethes in front of her, paces back and forth. Suddenly his hands crash down on the table, erecting a shriek from Bella. His words are fast and rapid, shooting out of his lips like bullets ricocheting off of walls.

"They know what you eat, what you wear, what you think, feel, want, _desire_." He hums to himself like a mad man, tearing at his hair with his hands. He skips around the room, laughing hysterically as he trips over his feet.

Bella shrinks in her seat, casting glances at her father for reassurance. He offers her nothing. His eyes stare ahead, seeing nothing, darting around nervously, following his friend like a man looks at God.

Charlie's friend leans over the table and whispers in her ear. She can smell the scent of coffee on his breath.

"What do you desire, Bella?" He stares at her seriously, suddenly sober. His next question trickles off his lips like freezing rain. "A boy? A job? Your life?"

"Enough," Charlie says calmly. His friend sits down and leans back in his chair, wordlessly, and flips out a small box from his bag.

"She must be scared, Charlie," he says reasonably. "She needs to be fully prepared."

Bella is thoroughly confused. Panic creeps into her voice as she realizes that something is happening. Something serious.

"Please tell me what's going on Daddy," she says quietly. Her hands shake as Jim slides the box over to her. She watches the small television in horror as she stares at the screen. When she looks up, her eyes puddle over with tears that glisten on the metal table.

"What is this?" she whispers softly, more to herself than anybody else. Death, destruction, war. People fighting people. Panic. She knew of none of this existed before, but the proof was in front of her very eyes. Bodies, dead, lifeless. She had never seen such horrible images before in her lifetime.

"Our world is dying," Jim says calmly. Bella's hand slides up to cover her trembling mouth, looking at her father. He nods in recognition as his friend continues. "I'm not talking dying like in fifteen thousand years. Soon. Very soon."

Bella can't think of anything to say. The video on the small screen is too entrancing. Sharp objects, pointing at people. A mother holding a child, tears streaming out of her eyes. Suddenly a sharp noise, and the woman is on the ground. The camera pans around before another bang takes the focus to another pair of bodies.

"There is a flight to Mars. There's no time for details, you just have to make a choice. It will be dangerous, and there will be the danger of death. But I can guarantee you that a shot to the heart will be far less painful then the slow poisoning of your body."

Bella's mouth cannot form words, but he doesn't seem to notice. He grabs her shoulders and speaks softly. His breath rushes over her face again and tries the tears on her cheeks.

"Bella Swan, my simple question to you is: do you want to live or die?"

It doesn't take much time for her to come to a decision.

"L-live," she stutters. Tears slide down her face. She feels weak, hopeless, and young.

He takes a deep breath and nods.

"Then we have a hell of a lot of work to do."

* * *

**Author Note: **I'm going beta-less for this story, for certain reasons I cannot disclose. If you feel I need one, please don't hesitate to let me know!

* * *

**Here, for you – A random haiku!**

"No! That's my organic nut!"

Epic fight ensues.

Pistachio nut battle.


End file.
